A Hawk's Eye View
by Evelyn Downs
Summary: Dark tales collide: Skin Walker Blaine has been trapped with the Tree People for generations. When three travelers are intercepted en route to rescue their friends, freedom is within sight, but things go badly wrong. In the face of a stark loss, can Blaine find it in herself to choose a new path, save middle earth? Will her new companions fill the void in her heart? Slight AU.
1. Chapter 1

**Title: **A Hawk's Eye View

**Author: **Evelyn Downs

**Summary: **The tree people of Firienholt are a race both savage and intelligent; barbaric, and sophisticated, and they have long held Blaine—a skin walker—bound to their bloodlines. So when three of the Fellowship become unintended guests en route to rescue their friends, Blaine's only companion convinces them to take her away. However, Blaine's escape will prove more difficult than any of them imagine, and her freedom will spark far more than any of her companions bargained for. Slightly AU.

**Disclaimer(s): **I don't own Lord of the Rings, or any of the recognizable characters from the trilogy. That all remains the undisputed property of J.R.R. Tolkien…for now (waggles eyebrows ominously.) All other characters, however, did in fact come from me, as did any future plot twists.

If you're dead set on Tolkien's chain of events, don't read this. I may or may not fiddle with the plot, and I would prefer comments to regard my choices artistically, rather than compare them to Tolkien's work (let's face it, I can't top that ._.)

**On to the tale!**

When a man, a dwarf and an elf passed through Firienholt, they sent out a ripple of awareness. A fox paused its foraging, and the master owl craned his neck to watch the procession through the trees. A million eyes marked their footsteps, but perhaps none glowed so fiercely as the yellow-gold gaze of a hawk. Dark as midnight, she perched invisible in the trees and fluttered branch to branch, following their progress. Her sharp eyes narrowed in disapproval as they continued heading north. _Toward Rohan,_ she thought, mentally mapping their trajectory. With a mental sigh, she spread her wings to flight. _They'll hit the village before they exit the forest…_She loosed a fierce cry before lifting from her branch in one strong down stroke. It amused her greatly to witness the sudden tension come over the elf as she wheeled away toward the clan.

It took her fewer than five minutes to reach the settlement hidden in the trees and light down on a particularly large root near the village guard—two sentries in full armor. One whistled to his companion and both jogged toward the waiting hawk as she hopped from foot to foot. Before their eyes, her bones seemed to warp, and a great shiver passed through her feathers and pushed them up on end before they began to recede into her skin. Her neck twisted, and such a series of snaps and cracks were emitted from her person that an unaccustomed observer would think she'd broken every bone in her body. As it was, one of the guards averted his gaze, and the other appeared supremely uncomfortable. Within moments, however, the process was over, and a small girl with a sharp face, hawks eyes and feathers in her short, black hair stood to regard the sentries.

"I need to see the chief," she intoned coolly. "Now, if possible." The guards shared a glance, but nodded, and one dashed off through the trees.

Perhaps ten minutes later found the girl-hawk high in a tree as she stepped off a thick branch into the chief's compartment where it sat securely half in the trunk, half stretched over a limb. As soon as she was illuminated by the saffron glow of candlelight, the girl bent to one knee. The chief—a wizened old man with long, white hair and tough, caramel skin—stood commandingly from his skin-draped chair.

"Blaine," he nodded to the girl, gestured with one regal hand for her to rise. "What do you have for me?" The girl didn't miss the ice in his tone or his gaze, but she had learned long ago not to flinch.

"Intruders, my lord," she said quickly. "Three of them, perhaps half a day northwest of here." The chief nodded slowly, sank back into his chair.

"I see…describe them to me."

"Man, dwarf and elf, all armed, moving fast. They travel light—I saw perhaps one pack among the three. Lean males, all of them, and with enough urgency not to watch their feet," she rattled off quickly, then remembered how the man had seemed to study the ground. "I believe they were tracking something, my lord." To her great surprise, the chief clapped his hands together, and his lean face stretched into a withering smile.

"Wonderful," he said with apparent glee. Blaine narrowed her yellow eyes, suspicious of the chief's excitement, but he was not finished speaking. He lifted a veined hand and pointed one of his hooked, knotted fingers at her. "Go to these travelers," he commanded. "Lead them here and bring them to me."

"Wh—" Blaine bit her tongue, but it was too late. The chief rose from his chair with greater speed than she had imagined he maintained.

"It is not for you to ask questions, _leath anam,_" he growled. Blaine bit hard on the inside of her lip at the crude name, but betrayed no other emotion as the chief once again took his seat. "Now go."

Blaine bowed stiffly from the hips, hands down at her sides as was customary, turned on her heel and marched out to the end of the branch. For a moment she stood there, exhaled long and hard in an effort to dispel her anger. It didn't work—it never really worked—and the hawk that emerged from her shift appeared more than a little ruffled. Nevertheless, she lifted into the air with a chirrup of annoyance in the back of her throat.

When she caught up to the travelers once again, she lit on a branch a moment, deciding how best to approach them. Suddenly, the elf's head snapped up and he seemed to look straight at her. Caught off-guard, Blaine danced nervously from foot to foot on her branch and anxiously watched his expression as he turned to the dwarf, who'd begun singing something in a low, growling bass.

"Gimli, please," he hissed. "Something's amiss." At his words, Gimli's tune ground reluctantly to a halt, and the man jogged back from where he'd run ahead.

"What is it, Legolas?" he questioned, eyes instantly scanning the trees. Legolas shook his head.

"I've felt it for a while, now. Someone is watching us." _Damn elves and their senses,_ Blaine thought, irritated. It did nothing to upset her plan, but it ruffled her feathers nonetheless. Blaine had always prided herself on her ability to disappear, melt into her environment and watch, unnoticed.

"Och, trust an elf to be jumpy," the dwarf grumbled. "Pay him no mind, Aragorn." The man, Aragorn, shot him a half-amused, half preoccupied glance.

"These trees have eyes," he said to Gimli. "Who's to say they haven't alerted someone to our presence here?" _I suppose that's my cue,_ Blaine thought before quickly shifting. For just a moment longer she crouched on the tree branch, just until they group passed beneath her. Then, with a hawk's cry, she jumped down. She couldn't keep a grin from her face at the whoosh of wind through her hair, arms outstretched and body unnaturally light. She landed with barely a thud on the forest ground, and cleared her throat, though there was no need. Already the small company had whirled to face her, and she noticed with grudging appreciation that their weapons were instantly in hand. Aragorn held a sword, the dwarf wielded an axe, and the elf had an arrow knocked and trained on her chest. Blaine held up her hands in surrender.

"Please, I did not mean to startle you," she said quickly (though of course, she had). The weapons lowered a fraction of an inch, and Blaine sighed. "Who are you? What business do you have in _Firienholt_?" The group exchanged a glance, lowered their weapons…except the elf. Blaine noticed with irritation that he kept his arrow knocked and aimed.

"We mean no harm," the man said calmly. "We are simple travelers." Blaine quirked a raven-wing eyebrow at him in disbelief.

"Really. I've never seen any 'simple' travelers with reflexes like yours. In fact," she put a finger to her chin, tilted her head back as though thinking particularly hard. "I don't recall any 'simple travelers' just traipsing into _Firienholt_ with their noses to the ground like you three." She paused to gauge their reactions. The man and the dwarf shared concerned glances and seemed to shift uncomfortably. Clearly, Aragorn was trying to think of a way to handle the situation without violence, and in the quickest way possible. _The elf, on the other hand…_ Blaine leveled Legolas with her citron gaze as he pulled even harder on his bow string.

"What business of yours is our presence in Firienholt?" he demanded, blue eyes sharp. Blaine sighed, relaxed her stance and waved a hand carelessly at him.

"None, I suppose," she conceded, much to the group's apparent bewilderment. "The one who cares is my master—ruler of these parts, if there is one." She turned to Aragorn, taking a formal stance with her right hand clasping her left wrist behind her back. She offered a half bow, but her smirk added a flare of mockery. "I have been…dispatched to escort you to _Speibhaile_, our village in the sky."

"And if we refuse?" Gimli demanded, hoisting his axe a little higher. Blaine offered a wide, fake smile.

"I don't believe you will—after all, we have the means to help you find whatever you're tracking, as well as provide provisions, should you please the chief. And should you prove uncooperative," her smile hardened, "I will persuade you." Aragorn blinked at her a moment, and Blaine could almost feel his surprise that a slight girl like herself had the gall to threaten them. For a moment, she even wondered if he might take his chances attacking her. Then he sighed, defeated.

"Alright, I suppose we have no choice. We will accompany you…but please, know that we are on a quest of extreme urgency." Blaine nodded, and for the first time her sympathetic smile was genuine.

"Please, follow me, my lords," she gave another half bow and made to stride past them. On her way, however, she paused abreast of Aragorn and met his gaze. "I'm sorry for this," she whispered, low enough that none of the villagers would hear if they were skulking about. "You'll learn soon enough that I don't have a choice." Aragorn appeared taken aback, but before he could open his mouth to speak, Blaine had taken the lead and gestured for the little group to follow.

They made good time on the journey; Blaine was pleased to discover that even the dwarf could quite easily match her pace. What she had estimated as a half-day's trek quickly became the work of a few short hours.

"We're here," Blaine announced casually, just as the sun began its descending arch. Gimli looked about in confusion.

"Here? Lass, there's nothin' here!" Blaine smiled softly at him.

"To your eyes, yes—I suppose it appears no different than any other part of the forest. But…" she gestured with her eyes and hand to the canopy. The people of _Speibhaile_ had long made their homes high above the ground. The trees were full of dwellings, built so finely into the massive, twisting trunks and branches as to remain unnoticeable to the unsuspecting eye. And yet, Blaine knew to look for the intricate doorways, strengthened branches and expanded trunks.

"You live in those?" the dwarf breathed, seemingly in awe. Blaine nodded with a smile, noticed peevishly that Legolas' hand fluttered restlessly near his bow.

"And daily life happens down here," Blaine gestured to the little shops and stalls embedded in the maze of roots. "Now, please follow me to the chief's quarters."

Blaine deftly located the ancient tree in the center of the village and began climbing the staircase that wound about its trunk. The group followed and each of them kept a very firm grip on the trunk's rough bark. Blaine knocked carefully on the heavy door once they reached the wide, manually flattened branch that served as a landing.

"Enter," came the regal tone. Blaine reached for the door, but paused a moment before opening it and turned earnestly to the group.

"Remember to bow when you enter," she instructed in a harsh whisper. "Just copy me. And…be sure to compliment his home…and no matter what, do _not _mention his scar!" Legolas opened his mouth to ask why, but Blaine shook her head at him. "Just trust me, and you'll be more likely to survive this." At her mention of their precarious position, Aragorn appeared alarmed. But Blaine had used up her stall time, and yanked open the sturdy door to reveal the luxurious, if simple, hollow within.

"So this is the group of travelers?" the chief mused, cast his gaze almost scornfully over each of them. Blaine noticed with relief that they had copied her bow. Unfortunately, she also noticed that the chief had summoned the village soothsayer…which was never a good sign. Her mouth stretched in a slight grimace, which of course, the witch noticed.

"You are dismissed, _leath anam,_" she hissed. Blaine rose to her feet, nodded deeply to the chief and the soothsayer, and turned on her heel. Just before leaving the space, she made eye contact with Aragorn, offered the most miniscule of nods, and marched out onto the landing. She knew she was expected to await summons.

Perhaps half an hour later, the door swung open. Blaine, who had moved to sit with her legs hanging over the ledge, leapt to her feet so quickly she almost lost her balance. The soothsayer stood in the doorway, and with a glare of contempt and a wave of her hand the crone summoned Blaine back into the chief's chambers. Blaine obeyed silently.

The chief appeared to have taken a liking to the strangers, for they were all sat around his great, oaken table near the window carved into the trunk, and the chief wore what Blaine had internally labeled his flattery smile. At her entrance, however, his smile quickly vanished, and the company turned in their seats to regard her. Blaine fought—and failed—to keep a flush from her face as the crone jostled roughly past her, and the travelers looked between her and the chief with curiosity.

"Our friends seek a pack of orcs," the chief began coldly. Blaine wondered at which point in the last thirty minutes the travelers had become "our friends." "The foul creatures have captured two of their friends—Halflings of the shire."

"And you wish me to..?" Blaine regretted the short phrase almost immediately. She had not intended it, but the words came off with just a hint too much blasé attitude, bordering on sarcasm. As expected, the soothsayer jumped to her feet with a hiss.

"Hold your tongue, _leath anam!_" she commanded. Blaire stared at the ground, expecting some mild form of punishment, but in a rare act of charity, the chief waved a hand at the witch, and she grudgingly took her seat.

"You are to fly out tonight and scout out the pack," the chief commanded. "You will observe them long enough to discover what they have done with the Halflings, and report to our friends immediately upon your return." Years ago, perhaps, Blaine might have resented the order, knowing that it would mean a long, dangerous night without sleep. But she had grown accustomed to such chores; her position in the clan (if it could be labeled such) was one of servitude, and the chief had long taken to making sure she was at her wit's end with exhaustion.

"Please, that's unnecessary!" At Aragorn's protest, Blaine's head snapped up in surprise. "Such a journey will be dangerous and lengthy…we cannot ask so much of you." The chief chuckled as though at a small child's ignorance.

"This _leath anam_ is here to serve purposes such as this. She doesn't mind in the least, do you, _leath anam_?" The witch's gaze bored into Blaine's and she gulped thickly before answering.

"Of course not, my lord. I would be honored."

"That settles it then." The chief nodded to his new "friends" before gesturing to Blaine. "Please, show them to their chambers before you leave." Blaine bowed and started for the door.

"Please follow me, my lords."

**Alright, now that you've read the opening, I should warn you: I meant for this to be a light fic, and just follow the original plot line. As you will quickly see, the story had other plans. So for quite a few chapters, this will follow a separate plotline-though Aragorn, Legolas and Gimli will remain central characters. I do still intend to rendezvous with the movies, you might have to bear with me a bit. Hopefully it's still enjoyable, even if it's a little...different. Just let me know if it sucks!**


	2. Chapter 2

**Alright, chapter two! Note in advance-it only gets stranger from here. Hopefully, it's a good strange...and rest assured, eventually this bizarre tale will reach more familiar grounds, and romance will replace the sort of expository/suspense of these early chapters.**

**Enjoy!**

The travelers were to be lodged in the empty house a tree over from the chief's, and Blaine led them swiftly over the leveled branch that bridged the two. When she reached the door, however, she nearly jumped out of her skin. Aragorn had placed a heavy hand on her shoulder.

"My lord?" Blaine intoned, turning to face them.

"You do not have to do this," Aragorn said somberly.

"Aye, lass," Gimli seconded. "Tracking down the orcs is far too dangerous a task to undertake lightly—and on our behalf!" Blaine shook her head with an appreciative smile.

"You don't understand," she muttered. "I cannot disobey the chief."

"But even a King cannot command his subjects so absolutely!" Gimli protested. Blaine opened her mouth to respond, but the elf, whose gaze had been trained all too sharply on her over the duration of the walk, beat her to it.

"But you aren't a subject." It wasn't spoken as a question. Blaine shook her head. She would have left it at that, but Aragorn was staring her down so fiercely that she sighed, opened their door and followed them in.

"Listen, and listen well, for this information is known to few," she began seriously. "The chief owns me. I am, for lack of a better word, a possession he would rather give away. Unfortunately, I am too useful to dispose of." For a moment, the room was silent, and Blaine could have laughed at the looks of disgust on Gimli and Aragorn's faces. Legolas, of course, was still apparently trying to see straight through her with his elven eyes.

"How could such a thing have happened?" Gimli breathed at last. "Slavery was banned from these lands eons ago!" Blaine shrugged.

"I was a gift from my father many centuries ago," she said by way of explanation. "And have since passed from chief to chief with each new generation—a coming of age gift, if you will. I am bound to the line for an eternity…unless…" she trailed off. Blaine's heart was pounding; this was the closest she had ever come to revealing her situation, and now that she had begun, it was harder than she could have imagined to stop the flow of information.

"Unless?" Aragorn pressed. Blaine had to bite the inside of her cheek to keep from continuing.

"The sun is near to setting," she said by way of ending the conversation. "I must go now, or I will not make it back before morning." With that, she bowed and exited the room, only to collapse back against the door outside, breathing heavily.

"What a thing to witness!" she heard Gimli's voice from within.

"And there's clearly more to it," the elf's voice was hard with suspicion.

"To be passed down for centuries…she has the lifeline of an elf! Legolas—"

"She's not an elf, Gimli," Legolas cut him off peevishly. "I would have sensed it. But she isn't human, either…"

"And what did the soothsayer keep calling her? Leath anam?" Blaine's face flushed to hear Aragorn repeat her scorned nickname, and she pushed off the door. She had heard enough, and it was high time she made her departure. In the red-orange glow of sunset, Blaire climbed to the lookout tower—a small, spike of a branch protruding above the tree line, with platforms both below and above the canopy. She climbed deftly until she broke through the leaves into the open sky.

"Liam!" she called cheerfully to the guard on duty. A tanned face framed by scruffy copper hair peaked over the platform edge and lit with a smile. Blaine returned it easily—Liam was her best and only friend in the village. The boy had dared to speak to her years ago, when he was just a child, and Blaine had taken to him almost immediately.

"Hey, hawklet!" he said, using his old nickname for her. "Aren't you supposed to be on patrol?" Blaine shrugged, took a seat beside him on the platform.

"I've been given a priority assignment."

"So you're using my station as a launch pad, again," Liam frowned at her. Blaine laughed and shrugged, though the words caused her heart to jump with worry. Not a month ago, Liam had convinced her to try to escape from the platform, and they had been lucky not to get caught. "So what is it this time? Did he tell you to circle the world or something?" Liam didn't bother to disguise his contempt for Blaine's treatment. He had always resented the chief on Blaine's behalf, and up above the canopy, he felt he could be as blunt as he wanted.

"Not yet," Blaine chuckled before growing serious. "He told me to track down a group of Orcs for some travelers he's taken a liking to." Liam instantly whipped around to face her, alarmed.

"But Blaine, if you're seen…it's like a suicide mission!"

"Chief's prerogative," Blaine shrugged wryly. A silence passed between them before Liam reached over and grasped her hand.

"Blaine, you have to get out of here."

"What, and leave you behind, leaf breath? Don't be silly, Liam." Blaine tried to joke, though her heart was pounding at the memory of their last attempt. Unfortunately, Liam's face was utterly serious.

"You and I both know I'm not what's keeping you here." He paused before the light of an idea shone in his eyes. Blaine braced herself. "Ask these travelers!"

"Liam," Blaine groaned. She'd expected this. "Let's not do this again—didn't you learn anything from last time?"

"But with people from the outside everything changes! If they make a claim, the chief is bound to-"

"Liam!" Blaine snapped. The youth sat back, disappointed. Blaine pushed herself to her feet, suddenly very guilty for snapping. "Sorry," she mumbled. "Just don't get my hopes up, okay?" she met Liam's gaze a moment before smiling and ruffling his hair. "Alright—I'm off. I'll be back around dawn." Liam didn't bother questioning her surety; no matter her distance or obstacle, Blaine had always seemed to time herself perfectly.

Within moments Blaine shifted and took off. She didn't have to glance behind her to know that Liam had sprung to his feet.

"I'll get you out of here, Blaine!" he shouted sincerely. Blaine rolled her hawk eyes and continued flying. _The idealism of youth…_

ڿ

Half the night had passed since Blaine had taken off, and Liam had waited anxiously for her return until his shift was relieved.

"Watch for the hawk," he told his replacement, in the surly tone he had perfected when speaking of Blaine. He hated the act…but it was expected of him. Anyway, Blaine would never speak to him again if she thought he was getting himself into trouble...she was already furious about their recent escape attempt. Liam smiled at the memory. He'd convinced her to try shifting into her demi form—a human girl with wings, feathers and far more power than her other forms—and simply fly away. It had been a good plan, but ended in disaster. Having barely managed to grow her wings, they gave out on her mid-take off, and Blaine had all but fallen straight through the soothsayer's roof. At the last minute she'd spun off into the forest, but she hadn't spoken to Liam for three days. When she did, she forced him to promise not to bring up her escape again.

Liam sighed—she should have known he would never keep such a promise. He understood that she was worried for him; if Breag discovered his friendship with the hawk, she would declare him corrupted, and he would face exile—even execution. _All the more reason to do this while she's away,_ he thought with a sharp, determined inhale. He started toward the lodging reserved for visitors…when they got them. If anyone could save Blaine, it had to be these travelers she spoke of.

Liam had long forgotten when his fascination with the hawk had transcended into something more. One day he simply noticed a constant desire to run his hands through her midnight hair, feel the feathers at her nape and trace the silken lines of her face. Above all, he wanted to see the glow of her smile and hear the music of her laugh. And it pained him to see her broken by the chief and his witch, as deeply as any flesh wound. Liam had told himself years ago that he would do whatever it took to free her from that bondage.

He rapped on the traveler's door with a self-amused, hopeless smile. _I've fallen harder than is probably good for me,_ he thought. _I just hope I love her enough to lose her…_

A tall man with dark hair and the grizzled beginnings of a beard came to the door. Liam smiled up at him, for the man stood half a head taller than him, and offered a little half bow.

"Might I come in?" he asked politely. The man returned his smile, stepped to the side and held the door.

"By all means." Liam nodded his thanks and stepped into the warmly lit room. Inside he found a dwarf sitting at the table, all burly muscle and wild, red beard, while an elf leaned elegantly against the far window. Liam had never seen an elf before, and suddenly he understood why his elders had long called him elf-like, for he shared their light, lithe build. Though of course, he had seen no other with hair quite like this one's flowing, moonlight tresses.

"I hope I'm not intruding," Liam began apologetically as the man circled around to face him. "I come on behalf of Blaine—the girl who brought you here." He watched recognition dawn on the traveler's faces. "I'm Liam, son of Lief."

"Aragorn, son of Arathorn," the man replied with a nod. "This is Gimli, son of Gloin, and the elf, Legolas." Liam nodded to each of them in turn, suddenly nervous in the face of these warriors (for any fool could see they were not mere travelers.) "Now, what of this girl, Blaine?"

"I'm not sure how much you know of Blaine's situation," Liam began carefully, "but Blaine is not a free member of this village."

"We know, lad," Gimli nodded somberly. "The lass told us herself." Liam smiled shakily.

"That makes this easier, then. Blaine herself would never ask this of you, so I implore you on her behalf: you must take her away from here!" Liam had not intended for his request to come tumbling out in quite that manner, and once it had he found himself in an utter panic. Oh, to have phrased it with more tact! But it was too late, and all the poor boy could do was watch the mingled surprise, confusion and hesitation on the companions' faces as he waited for an answer.

"Forgive us, but we don't even understand what that would entail," Aragorn said at last. "Blaine told us very little—simply that she is bound to the chief's line. We know nothing of the reasons or practice."

"Oh…" Liam breathed. He thought his heart was going to explode he was so nervous. "Then, um…do you mind if I sit down?" he gestured to the table. He feared that if he remained standing, his trembling knees would give out. Gimli smiled in answer, and pushed a chair toward him, into which Liam sank gratefully.

"So, why don't you start at the beginning?" Liam was caught off guard by Legolas' sudden question. He caught himself scrutinizing the elf, who'd remained silent until his strangely eager question.

"Well, I suppose by now you've heard how the chief and his soothsayer address Blaine," Liam began simply. Aragorn nodded.

"Leath anam…what does that mean?"

"It's a crude term, from the ancient language of the tree people. It translates to _half soul_—an insulting word for a skin walker." Liam explained bitterly before jumping at a sharp inhale behind him. He turned to see the elf sitting rigidly, face a mask of elation and fury.

"I knew it…" he muttered and abruptly stood to stride over to Aragorn. Liam could not discern the angry words Legolas whispered to his human companion, but Aragorn's resulting frown gave Liam an idea.

"I am going to listen to this young man's request," Aragorn told Legolas calmly. The elf took a step back, stiffly nodded his head before turning on his heel and leaving the room. The door slammed behind him, and Liam found himself staring at it with wide eyes. "Liam, please continue," Aragorn intoned wearily. Liam nodded.

"As I was saying, Blaine is a skin walker—a hawk. Black as midnight…" Liam smiled to himself. "We don't remember exactly where she came from—it's been too many generations—but the chief claims she is the last, given to the tree people by her own father centuries ago. The legend is, he was a skin walker himself, and gave Blaine away because her mother was a human woman."

"I've heard that skin walkers used to populate the Grey wood," Gimli murmured thoughtfully, turned to Aragorn. "When the early settlers of Doriath came, there was much interbreeding. Apparently, none of the hybrid children survived." Gimli looked to Liam with dawning understanding, and Liam shrugged.

"Blaine's father must have thought she was going to die, so he brought her to the tree people. Back then, our soothsayers were legendary, even crossing into wizardry at times! So he struck a deal with the soothsayer Firinne. She would save Blaine's life, but the cost was steep. For the magic to stick, Blaine would be bound to a human life—the chief's."

"Was one lifetime not enough?" Aragorn interrupted, alluding to Blaine's continuing predicament. Liam's face darkened, and he shook his head.

"That's not it. Firinne was clever—she was later called Cleassin the Black, a mage known for deception. She tricked Blaine's father, and bound her to the chief's bloodline, so that even once the magic had been ingrained into Blaine, she could not escape the tree people."

"A skin walker is a valuable asset," Aragorn mumbled to himself. Liam nodded.

"And the tree people are very superstitious—they think Blaine is some kind of demonic presence, hense her nickname, and that her capture will bring good fortunte."

"No doubt the superstition was fed to the by your soothsayers. I have heard of Cleassin the Black, though the tales were neither clear nor pleasant. This sounds like one of her dealings." Aragorn affirmed.

"The current chief's soothsayer, Breag, is her descendant. She's the key to Blaine's imprisonment." Liam said, finally having circled around to his true purpose. Anxiously he glanced to the window, noticing the first glimmers of gray light the sky. Blaine would return soon…

"So then, laddie," Gimli leaned forward across the table. "What is it you'd like us to do for young Blaine?" Liam swallowed. He looked into the earnest faces of Aragorn and Gimli, and suddenly dreaded asking them to risk so much. But he hardened his resolve. _For Blaine._

"First know that I would not ask this of you if there were any other way," he prefaced, then launched into his plan.

**Hope it was decent, and you're starting to understand some of Blaine's predicament. I made a lot of decisions sort of late in the story, and tried to go back and put everything in the right order, but if something's confusing let me know! **

**Till next time,**

**Downs.**


	3. Chapter 3

**All of my chapters have been a tad on the shorter side, haven't they? To be completely honest, I didn't give a lot of thought to chapter breaks when I wrote the first 30 pages or so of this, and so I'm sort of slicing and dicing as I post. Really I sort of lumped the whole chunk together as one chapter in my mind...but that would hardly do for you lovely readers. Fanfiction is not the place for 30 page chapters. So we'll stick to 2-pagers.**

**Enjoy!**

The sky was glowing a light, dawn grey by the time Legolas finally stopped his heavy pacing. For hours he had worked off his fury just outside the door of their temporary room, and finally he sank, exhausted, against the thin outer wall. _A skin walker!_ He thought to himself, incredulous. Since childhood he had been regaled with tales of the ancient race, blessed with a second, animal form. He could even now recall the mixed respect and loathing in his father's voice as Thranduil recounted stories from memory.

As a boy, Legolas had loved to hear of the skin walkers' valiant, inner struggles—how half of them had sided so many years ago with Sauron and decimated both human and elven forces; how the rest of them came together and rose up against their kin to battle alongside men and elves. Admirable, he had found it, that they put aside their friendships and even blood ties to defend the good.

And yet…his father's warning echoed in his mind, long forgotten: _Theirs was a race even more ambiguous than the race of men, and they cannot be trusted. It's a good thing the world is rid of them, my son,_ his father had assured him. For the young princeling had been devastated to learn that the race was decimated in the last stand against Sauron.

_Not decimated,_ Legolas corrected himself, head leaning against the outer windowsill of the room. _For one still survives._ A strained noise, somewhere between a groan and a growl, escaped from the back of the elf's throat as he recalled his sharp words to Aragorn when he'd been told of Blaine's identity. He'd suspected, of course, since the moment he caught a glimpse of the tiny feathers at her temples. Yet the shock of proof spurred him into superstition, and he regretted his negative response.

"_Do not get involved in this, Aragorn," _Legolas had hissed in his friend's ear. _"Skin walkers are not worth the trouble they bring."_ At the memory, Legolas smacked the back of his head against the wood with a dull thud. He had even stormed out of the room, not even waiting to hear the boy, Liam's, proposition.

"…I would not ask this of you if there were any other way…" the boy's voice floated through the window's thin glass as though conjured by Legolas' self-frustration. He suspected that, in his regret, he had subconsciously tuned in with his superior elven ears. For a moment, the elf's curiosity and pride were at war. After all, it was against his princely code to _eavesdrop_. And yet, he was originally meant to be part of the conversation…

Eventually, his desire to hear Liam's plea won out over his proper upbringing, and he angled his head slightly, twisted to lean on one wrist, to better catch the words from inside.

"I've told you that Breag is the key to all of this—it is within her power to release Blaine. Of course, she will never do this willingly. That's where you come in."

"You want us to force a witch?" Gimli's voice was thick with doubt. "I'm afraid that's beyond our means, laddie. If Gandlaf were here, perhaps…"

"But he isn't." Aragorn's reply was sharp, and Legolas could not stifle the pang of grief that accompanied the wizard's name. Gandalf's fall in the mountains had taken its toll on all of them, and none had fully healed from his loss.

"Don't worry—you won't have to face the mage," Liam assured them hastily. Legolas could imagine the lanky boy, blue eyes wide and hands upheld in enthusiasm. _This skin walker can't have it that bad,_ Legolas found himself thinking. _She has a true and earnest friend in this Liam._

"Then how do we convince her to release Blaine?"

"All you have to do is claim that Blaine is somehow linked to you." Liam's voice was nearly overflowing with hope. "It'd be best if we could somehow put her in your debt. There are laws about debts, and it's possible that the chief would release her into your custody until the debt has been fulfilled…"

"But not likely," Aragorn spoke the words like a question, and Legolas heard a deflated sigh from Liam.

"Unfortunately. If it were a blood debt, then maybe…but unless Blaine is seriously injured, the claim will be too weak." Legolas' left hand was starting to grow numb from supporting his body weight. He didn't know how much longer he dared listen, but the silence had grown thick with thought and he couldn't move for fear of the motion drawing attention to his incriminating position. (An elf eavesdropping? He would never hear the end of it.)

"So we'll need to injure her," Gimli said. His voice was disturbingly cheerful, given the words, and Legolas could imagine him brandishing his axe.

"…possibly," Liam admitted. "Even better for her to injure you, though. If she's in your debt, there's hardly any way they can say no. And of course, once she leaves the forest her freedom will be secure." And with that, Legolas could practically hear the optimism in the room. _They've all gone mad!_ He thought with genuine worry. For Aragorn and Gimli to seriously be considering such a farce…

Legolas stood abruptly from his crouched and slightly twisted position. He could stand no more of their talk, and embarrassment aside, he had to talk sense into his friends. With a deep breath to regain his composure—though his expression had, in true elf form, never so much as twitched—he swung the door open. All at once, Aragorn, Gimli and Liam turned to regard him carefully. Another reminder of the elf's brash exit hours before.

"Legolas," Aragorn greeted him. It was clear in the man's expression that he knew his friend would disapprove of his plan. Gimli, however, seemed to relish his discomfort, and launched straight into a summary of the conversation Legolas had just overheard.

"I'm sorry," Legolas directed to Liam before turning to his friends, "but I must advise against this."

"It is not so great a feat, Legolas," Aragorn intoned softly.

"We cannot leave the lass bound to these people for another thousand years or more!" Gimli slammed his hand on the table. It was evident that he had taken a romantic liking to the idea of rescuing Blaine and thought the whole thing rather noble. After all, Liam had gone about his request in a most earnest fashion, and even Legolas had to admit the girl's position was less than enviable. Nevertheless…

"In case you've forgotten, our purpose is of importance and utmost urgency," Legolas reminded them. His voice was soft, cool, but his eyes were stony, brow lightly furrowed. "We simply don't have the time to spare on a skin changer's problems."

"But she could prove valuable if you take her with you!" Liam piped up. "Blaine's a great scout, and really good with a knife or sword. I guarantee she would be an asset."

"And why are you so eager to bid farewell to a friend?" Legolas demanded gently. "Blaine's life can't be so awful with you as her companion?" Liam's face flushed, but he looked down into his lap.

"I can't do anything for her," he muttered. "I can't risk getting her in more trouble by open friendliness…and you wouldn't be so reluctant if you'd seen what the soothsayer and the chief do to her."

"Besides ordering her out on ridiculous missions?" Gimli scoffed in an attempt to lighten the suddenly dark mood.

"That isn't the half of it," Liam shook his head. "Breag periodically bleeds her for spells. And every other night, the chief sends her on a long mission—anything from stealing a troll's treasure to flying aimlessly around the forest—just to test her limits and keep her weak."

"They're afraid of her," Aragorn nodded in understanding. Legolas saw resolution enter his gaze, and stepped forward.

"Aragorn, please_,_" Legolas implored. "You cannot risk the outcome of our quest—the lives of the hobbits—for one girl."

"I couldn't agree more." Everyone in the room lurched to their feet, spun toward the door. Blaine smiled at them, leaned heavily on the doorframe. "You're almost out of time."

ڿ

Blaine glared around the room, despite her hazy vision, and remained leaning in the doorway as the travelers (with the exception of Legolas) glanced guiltily toward Liam. She attempted to affect a casual stance, one hand on her hip, ankles crossed, body angled against the door. Unfortunately, Liam knew her far too well. He crossed the room in seconds and looped her arm over his shoulders despite her protests. Blaine soon found herself lowered into a chair, with the group circled around her. Even Legolas couldn't hold his frown at the sight of her stained, bedraggled clothes and unusual pallor.

"I'm fine," she huffed at Liam, but he simply scowled at her.

"What happened?" he demanded. She shot him a look and gestured to the group.

"I could ask you the same. What are you doing here?"

"Don't avoid the question, Blaine." Liam met her gaze, dulled to a light goldenrod with tiredness and pain, and at last Blaine sighed in defeat.

"Well, I meant to report, anyway," she mumbled before looking to Aragorn. "I found your hobbits." She said first with a light smile of triumph. The travelers didn't make a sound, but their excitement was palpable, evident in the way they each shifted closer to Blain, faces open and eyes alight. "They're alive, held captive by the Orcs."

"Where?" Gimli asked eagerly.

"About a day's ride from here," Blaine informed him. "En route to Isengard it sounded like." Blaine had to pause as a dry wheeze escaped her throat, and Liam gingerly began to rub her back. "I was able to listen in for a while. The head of the group—he was massive. I don't even think he was an Orc…"

"Probably an Uruk-hai," Gimli muttered.

"He said something about an elven weapon. They think the hobbits have it, and they're being taken to the white wizard." The change in atmosphere was instantaneous. The travelers seemed to freeze, faces mixed guilt and terror. Blaine scrutinized their faces. "Do you know what he might have meant?" she asked carefully. Aragorn's gaze snapped to meet hers, and he nodded slowly.

"Unfortunately, they don't have it."

"As soon as the Uruk-hai find out…" Legolas trailed off, fearfully met Aragorn's gaze.

"Oh my god, Blaine!" Liam suddenly exclaimed, holding out a hand covered in blood. Blaine glared at him—in her haste to give Aragorn her report, she'd forgotten that he was rubbing her back, and would discover her injury.

"It's nothing, Liam," she snapped pointedly, but Liam merely shoved his hand in her face.

"This is not nothing!" He declared angrily. Blaine sighed and closed her eyes with a scowl.

"The Uruk-hai caught my scent," she spat peevishly. "I don't know how he figured out who I was, but he had his damn Orc firing squad loose a volley at me." Liam sighed roughly.

"Well, at least let me bind it for you," he tutted and turned into the room to search for bandages to use. As he passed, however, Aragorn laid a hand on his shoulder.

"She's injured," he whispered. Liam scowled.

"Yes, though she would die before admitting it. Honestly, of all the stubborn—"

"But she's _injured_, lad," Gimli picked up the cue. "On our behalf!" Realization dawned on Liam's face, and he cast an awe-struck glance back to where Blaine was dozing in her chair.

"Oh…" he breathed, met Aragorn's gaze. "A debt."

ڿ

When Blaine woke from her unintended slumber, she instantly leapt to her feet in panic, only to wince at the flash of pain in her shoulder. She paused, hand flying to the injury, to survey her disorienting surroundings. She was still in the travelers' quarters, having slept on the floor of their entry room; no doubt it was Liam who had gathered spare linen and layered it to create the nest at her feet. _Pest,_ Blaine thought fondly as her fingers traced the bandages over her left shoulder—another example of the boy's handiwork.

"Sleep well?" a tired voice sounded from behind her. Blaine turned to regard Liam, who had evidently fallen asleep in a chair with his head on the table. Blaine clicked her tongue at him.

"Better than I should have," Blaine smiled. "It feels like I slept for days."

"You didn't," Liam laughed. "But you probably should—you're still exhausted. I can see it all over your face." Blaine shook her head. She always forgot that Liam was considered a trained healer in the village.

"I don't deserve you, Liam."

"Sure you do!" He stood, stretched, and smiled at her. "You pay me back with sarcasm and empty threats." Blaine laughed, but the sound was cut off by pain. She glared toward her shoulder, and Liam caught the motion.

"Of all the times to get shot at," Blaine complained in explanation. Liam shook his head in sympathy.

"You're lucky, you know," he said. "The arrow just grazed you, so there wasn't anything to pull out. That should heal up nicely in a day or two. As long as you don't fly on it," he warned. Blaine smiled sheepishly.

"Even if I wanted to, you know the chief will never let me stay grounded for that long. Knowing him, I'll be up and out by midday." Liam gave her an odd look for a moment. Blaine shook her head, confused.

"Blaine, it _is _midday." It took a moment for his words to register, and when they did Blaine's yellow eyes stretched wide with horror.

"No…no, no…" she stuttered, moving toward the door. "I was supposed to report back! The chief is _not _going to be happy…" she made to leave, then froze and looked down at her clothes. They were the same ones from her journey. In fact, she had to admit that she probably looked terrible—clothes ragged, stained with mud and blood, hair and feathers sticking out all over the place. "Is it disrespectful not to change?" she asked herself, half turned back inside, then back to the door. "No…maybe he'd believe that I just got back? Oh, but the bandage!" Finally she just gave up and, with an angry huff and a grudging wave to Liam, she slammed the door behind her, roughly tearing off her bandage as she went. It wouldn't do for the chief to suspect she'd stopped to treat her injuries before seeing him.

"That was quite an exit," Gimli muttered humorously to Liam as he emerged from the next room. Liam chuckled, but his mirth was mingled with worry.

"She's like that a lot—really bird-brained," he joked, voice strained.

"Will she be punished?" Aragorn stepped out behind Gimli, read the worry in Liam's face. He nodded.

"It won't be that bad, since she's injured…" Liam trailed off, stared forlornly at the door, and Aragorn slapped a hand down on his shoulder.

"Don't worry. We have our debt, now. We'll get her out." Liam smiled up at him.

"Thank you," he said sincerely. "She's always wanted to see the world, you know."

Still sitting in the next room, deep in thought, Legolas wrestled with his desires. On the one hand, he stood by his argument: skin walkers were untrustworthy, and that aside, they could not spare time or energy to rescue this one. And yet…after she'd helped them, at risk to herself, and hearing of her treatment…at the very least, he understood Aragorn's wish to help her.

With an irritated sigh, the elf stood and walked into the next room.

"So when is this debt to be claimed?" he asked begrudgingly.

**Alright-chapter 3 down, who knows how many to go. As you can see, this is getting a bit...primal for middle earth. But really, who's to say there weren't tree people with rituals and semi-barbaric tendencies? They would hardly have been involved in the events of the trilogy...until now! Haha.**

**Best,**

**Downs**


	4. Chapter 4

**Here we go again...be prepared for some creepy stuff to start in this chapter-it gets a little dark. Just bear with me! Also, you've probably noticed that I employed a bit of 3rd person Omniscient narration in this fic. If that bugs you, don't worry-it will start to get a lot more Blaine-heavy as the fic goes on. However, if you guys like the extra perspective, let me know and I'll keep it in future chapters. **

**Happy reading!**

Liam left to return home with a new bounce in his step. He was jubilant—the plan was proceeding just as he had imagined it. Aragorn would free Blaine, he was sure of it; he'd never seen a more honorable group of people, and was confident that his hawk would be happy traveling with them. The elf was a bit standoffish, of course, and seemed reluctant to accept Blaine, but nothing so temporary could dampen the boy's giddy mood. Besides, there wasn't a soul who could dislike his hawk for very long.

Indeed, how could anyone not love Blaine after meeting her? Liam's step faltered. All one had to do was look into her golden eyes, sparkling with sunlight, watch the wind catch her midnight hair…one smile, and no one could deny her. Liam slowed to a stop, stood rigidly upon one of the massive, twisting roots en route to his own tree. He stared at the bark, covered with vibrant, green moss, so preoccupied that he hardly realized where he was: not half a league shy of Breag's own shop, buried in the roots, where she worked at spells and incantations during the day. Had he realized, he would have moved on quickly, for the sight of the dark, forbidding workshop sent shivers down his spine. Yes, he knew better than to linger within reach of the witch, but his mind was darkened by other things.

Liam was finally coming to the realization that, in saving Blaine, he would lose her forever. He did not bother telling himself he would see her again—after all, she could never return to the village, just as he could never leave it. In a moment of self-flattery, Liam wondered if perhaps he was the reason she had stayed so long, but he quickly banished the idea. After all, Blaine had talked much, as a child, of escaping with him—the two of them striking out on their own. How was she to know that he couldn't simply pick up and leave, she who knew him only through their brief, moonlit conversations during his watch.

Liam chuckled bitterly at his preposterous position, took another slow step forward. He loved Blaine, perhaps more than he had loved anything, and she hardly knew a thing about him. She knew he was a healer, and a sentry, and that he was her friend. But he had never told her of a life, a family…nothing. For how could he? He wondered idly what Blaine would think if he revealed all—told her the truth. That he was not born, at all, but conjured by Breag years ago, in secret; that she had taken half of his soul in an ancient, forbidden ritual, sealed it away in herself—an innocent soul to strengthen her magical capacity. _Half soul, indeed,_ he thought with dark humor of Blaine's nickname. _If anyone suits the label, I do._

A prickle up his spine and a shadow at the edge of his vision pulled Liam from his bitter self-pity. He whirled around, coppery hair flying, and his blue eyes landed on a condensed shadow perhaps ten feet behind him. To his horror, it began to rustle forward, grotesque in its lopsided movements, and Liam stood frozen in his tracks, heart heavy with dread.

"Did you think we would not find out?" The voice was eerily doubled, as though many beings embodied the figure that drew ever closer, and it rumbled low, like a growl. Liam managed a half step back, and a cold sweat broke out on his brow.

"Wh-who are you?!" he demanded. The voice that was many voices cackled.

"You know who we are." The figure moved a bit closer. Liam swallowed thickly, and realized he did know. For hidden amidst the chorus he could make out one strong voice, clearer than the rest.

"Breag," he whispered in terror, took another step back but his knees gave out and he landed with a painful thump on his back.

"Yes, dear boy, and no." The voices answered. "We are more than Breag the soothsayer…we are Cerlyn…Shaa…Vaarlyne…Firinne!" Liam's eyes widened in horror as what had once been Breag rattled off the names of past soothsayers. _She's done it…_he thought, mind oddly numb. Since creating him, Breag had sought to "transcend mortality" by pulling spirits from the past into her own body. And yet…he wondered how she had managed it. Eighteen years she had possessed half of his soul, and still not managed to perform the act of necromancy with it.

"What do you want?" he asked, mind buzzing in thought. What had changed to allow her transcendence? She released a blood-curdling cackle.

"We have known for years," she hissed, suddenly sped toward him with tremendous speed so that Liam could hardly draw breath before she stood not an inch from his face. "You have befriended the skin changer—we have seen it! We have seen it!"

"No!" Liam automatically denied; his heart was beating so hard and so fast that he thought it very well might explode from terror. Worse, her nearness had triggered an odd, painful sensation in the space between his heart and his lungs—as though something had reached in and _pulled_—and his head felt that it would implode.

"Do not deny it!" the voices shrieked, apparently thrilled with his weak attempt. "We know! But never fear," the voice was sudden quiet, a soft growl. "We can use you still. Yes…" she broke off into another otherworldly cackled. "To lose you…she will break! Broken! And the travelers…" a hooked, shadowy claw reached forward, stopped a fraction of an inch from Liam's forehead. His breathing came heavy and shallow. "You will stand against them…stop them! Yes, for they have what we want…"

In a sudden burst of pain and desperation, Liam scrambled backward and somehow found his feet. In near mindless panic, he dashed over the roots toward his home—though why he thought he would be safe there, he didn't know. Unfortunately, the creature Breag was far faster than the human soothsayer had ever been, and she flew at him in a blur of darkness, shoved her hands into the middle of his back, and Liam was sent sprawling. He landed hard, head smacked against rough bark, and the edges of his vision went black. The world was closing in. _Well, but I knew my time was limited…_

Breag's finger stabbed him in the forehead, and suddenly Liam's body was on fire. He imagined he could hear a horrible, tearing sound—as though each of his organs were trying to escape in separate directions. He couldn't hold back an agonized scream before collapsing back to the ground. His own pain echoed back at him, and he stared foggily up into the darkness of Breag's face before his eyes landed on a glimmer of white—a handprint deep within Breag's shadowed form. He felt his face contort with confusion. A white hand…he knew that stood for something…but it slipped away. All at once his vision was filled with midnight feathers and a gaze of sunlight.

_Sorry, Blaine,_ he thought with a last tear. _I meant to see you off…_

ڿ

Blaine returned to the traveler's door early the next morning, freshly bathed, wearing clean clothes and slightly winded. She had grown accustomed to having wings at her disposal, and forgot what a bother a canopy village could be without them.

"Blaine, come in," Aragorn greeted her at the door. Blaine offered a half-bow and stepped into the room. She noticed with some relief that her "nest" had been cleared away, and Liam had vacated the dwelling. Yesterday and the night before were a hazy blend in her mind, like a bizarre daydream, but she remembered her confusion at Liam's sudden friendship with the travelers, and didn't wish to dwell on it.

"The chief has summoned you to council," Blaine informed Aragorn.

"Council? Why?"

"He wishes to hear of your plans," Blaine explained. "And no doubt to give you provisions, perhaps ask after the fate of the world before you leave us. I assume you intend to be on your way soon." Blaine couldn't completely hide the disappointment from her voice, or the longing. What she wouldn't give to go with them…

"No later than tonight," the elf's cool voice sounded from the doorway into the next room. Blaine gave him a nod in greeting.

"Well, the council will not last long," she assured. "And, chief permitting, I will help you prepare for your journey afterwards." Aragorn smiled at her offer, but shook his head.

"We are all but packed as of this morning," he informed her. Blaine smiled.

"I see…well then, I will take you to council." With that she turned to exit the dwelling, waiting to make sure her charges followed her. She led them all the way down the tree and to the forest floor, only to direct them to another tree, more monstrous than any of the others. It would take Blaine's wingspan nearly five times over to span the width of the trunk.

"This is _lath fea_—a spirit oak." She laid a hand against the smooth, white bark, looked up into the labyrinthine branches, covered in dark emerald leaves. "Anything important—council meetings, rituals, trials are all held here." With that, she walked part way around the tree until she found the doorway nestled between the giant, twisting roots. She led her party in, closed the door behind them, and started up the staircase set into the interior wall.

When they reached the council chamber—a discrete oval, half built into the trunk, half out on a limb and open to the sky—most of the council members had arrived. The chief and Breag sat in the raised chairs at the far end of the chamber, sheltered by the trunk. The other members—respected elders of the village-fanned out from there, but left more seats empty than full.

"Is this really your council?" Gimli whispered to her under the pre-council chatter. Blaine nodded with a shrug.

"The council was once an honored aspect of life here, but over the years it has faded to little more than a small meeting of elders—a small percentage of a population more focused on the simplicity of forest life." She gestured through the window, where the roots of the village were visible. As they watched, throngs of villagers emerged from trees, and the marketplace swarmed to life.

"How many are you?" Aragorn asked, clearly surprised by the instant crowds.

"Over two thousand now, I believe."

"Two thousand!" the dwarf exclaimed. Blaine shushed him with a light chuckle, pointed to the three open seats near the chief.

"Please, my lords. Your seats await." She directed. Gimli obediently walked toward his seat with a mumbled "two thousand!" Legolas strode away without so much as a glance at Blaine, and Aragorn followed, pausing only briefly on the way to lay a gentle hand on her uninjured shoulder. She smiled, watched them take their seats, and shifted smoothly to exit the chamber. Before she passed the door, however, a shrill whistle caught her attention. Blaine turned to see Breag calling her over.

"You will sit on this council, _leath anam,_" the witch said with an unsettling smile. Heart pounding at the ominous order, Blaine moved slowly totake her expected position: a lofted platform directly above the chief. As a child, she had dared to rain feathers, among other things, down on many a chief's head. As with many things, she had since learned to simply perch there and preen her feathers. And yet, on this occasion there had been something strange in the soothsayer's tone—an odd glee that set Blaine's nerves on edge—and the young hawk watched the council proceedings with an unusually focused gaze.

"Today marks the turning of the month," the chief announced as a beginning of the meeting. The din in the chamber immediately quieted. "As always, many things must be discussed. However, before we begin, I would like to address a rumor that has reached our ears. I call the travelers Aragorn, Gimli and Legolas to council." He looked pointedly at the three and gestured to the raised platform in the middle of the chamber. With hesitant glances between themselves, the travelers moved slowly to stand before the chief.

"I will first ask after your plans," the soothsayer began. "Once you leave us, that is."

"We will journey to recover our friends, of course," Aragorn answered, eyes firm. He intended to say no more on the matter. Thankfully, the chief let the matter slide. Blaine watched with an odd tension. Something was definitely wrong…

"We would have you stay a bit longer, and provide you with provisions for your journey." The chief's voice was suddenly sly, though his words were innocent, and Aragorn chose his words carefully.

"We are grateful, my lord, but we must be on our way," he assured then council. "We cannot afford the slightest delay." Suddenly he paused, cast a glance to Blaine. "Regarding the matter of our departure," he began again, eyes trained on the hawk, but suddenly Breag released a screech to rival a Nazgul and flung an arched finger toward the travelers.

"You see how they are corrupted, my lord!" she shrieked, eyes wide in triumph. For a moment the council was quiet, and confused glances were traded all around, not least between Aragorn, Gimli and Legolas. "Did I not warn you of leaving them with that _leath anam_? You see how they glance to her, deny our answers…they mean to free her!" The elders murmured amongst themselves, all clearly bewildered. For, no matter which way Blaine looked at it, Breag's sudden claim seemed preposterous, bordering on senile. And yet the hawk noticed, with a chill that ruffled her feathers, the chief was smiling, nodding in encouragement of the soothsayer's outburst. Blaine turned her gaze on Aragorn, found that he returned it steadily, grey eyes hard. Her heart sank, and she vehemently shook her head, but Aragorn and his companions stepped forward with resolution.

"We owe her a debt," he explained. "The hawk was injured while tracking Orcs on our behalf!"

"Blood claim," one of the elders whispered, and the words passed as a ripple through the council. Blaine was frozen in shock, claws curled around the edge of her pedestal, body angled forward and feathers ruffled.

"It is not your claim," Breag said with a wicked grin. "You did not give the order." At that, Aragorn stood back, at a loss. Breag's smile widened to reveal sharp, yellowing teeth. She seized upon Aragorn and the council's confusion, rose to her feet. "The hawk has corrupted the travelers," she declared. "We must cleanse them, or the village will be forfeit!"

Blaine could hardly believe what she was hearing. Surely this was some terrible nightmare…perhaps her injury had made her feverish. And yet, no matter her denial, she could not seem to wake up. She stared around the council; a couple of the elders seemed uncertain, but the vast majority shook their heads sadly at the travelers. Their superstitions were too deeply ingrained.

"You have no proof!" Gimli tried at last, waving a heavy hand furiously at Breag. The soothsayer smiled and an evil shadow seemed to fall over her face as she nodded to the chief.

"Call forth the witness!" he commanded. _Witness? What witness?_ Blaine thought, panicked. Her mind whirled, trying to remember anyone who might have betrayed her. _How could they when no one knew?_ The door to the chamber opened with a creak, and the council fell instantly silent. Blaine's head snapped to the side…and her beak fell open. She was so shocked, she pitched forward off of her pedestal, had to snap out her wings to brace her fall, painfully jarring her injury. She hardly registered the pain.

The witness shut the door quietly behind him, walked across the chamber floor to kneel directly in front of Aragorn, who watched him with mingled horror and deep sorrow. The witness looked up at the chief, rose to his feet slowly, deliberately.

"Liam, son of Lief, called as witness, my lord."

**Dun, dun, dun! I told you it got a little dark...and we're not out of the woods, yet!**


	5. Chapter 5

**Alright, here's the last bit of off-the-bat installments for a while, because this chapter marks the end of my pre-written material. From here on, I will hopefully be continuing the tale with some more classic LOTR flare. Unfortunately, I can't promise that it will get any less bizarre. After all, I started this thing with the intention of a light, rather fluffy romance-an "insert OC into LOTR movies to proxy for self" sort of fic. **

**It did not turn out the way I intended, and I have no reason to believe the rest of the tale won't follow suit. So, if you enjoy this, let me know, and stay tuned for more of Blaine's twisted tale.**

Blaine felt as though the world had tilted sideways. She was dizzy, and the murmurs of the council echoed chaotically in her ears but did not register in her mind as it tried desperately to catch up. Her eyes fitfully scanned Liam's features, searching for something…any sign that he was not the boy she called her friend, or at least that he was not himself. She found nothing—his coppery hair and bright blue eyes were the same as she'd always known them, just harder, colder. He didn't even look at her.

"Tell us what you know of these travelers and the hawk Blaine," the chief commanded. Lia nodded, turned to the council.

"I myself heard them discuss plans to release the _leath anam_," he declared. Blaine almost cried to hear the hateful name roll off his tongue.

"Of course you heard!" Gimli made to charge forward, beside himself with fury, but Aragorn and Legolas held them back. Their faces were hard and angry, glares directed at the soothsayer.

"You were with us, Liam," Aragorn hissed under the din. "What are you doing?" Liam merely blinked at him and continued on as though nothing had been said.

"I heard from her own lips that Blaine stopped to talk with the travelers before taking off after the orc pack. She must have bewitched them!" At his final exclamation, with a condemning gesture to Blaine, the council was in an uproar. The chief silenced them with a regal wave of his hands, and Breag stood with an evil glint in her eye.

"We must purify them!" she declared. The elders nodded solemnly. "Cast their souls into the sky with the ashes! Burn them!"

Blaine had noticed little of the proceedings, eyes focused in horrified disbelief on Liam, but as a corps of _Trodaire_—tree fighters—burst through the doors and streamed toward her friends, the hawk leapt into action.

With a fierce cry, Blaine launched herself at the soothsayer, shifting as she went. One of the _Trodaire _blocked her approach, swung a blade at her throat. Blaine dodged narrowly, searched madly for a weapon, but by the time she straightened an arrow protruded from the fighter's chest. He toppled stiffly backward as Blaine spun to learn the identity of her attacker.

The council room had erupted into chaos. The _Trodaire_ had swarmed her three friends like fire ants…and of course, they fought back. For three fighters, they were holding their own superbly. She managed to catch a nod from Legolas through the frenzy before he turned to fire off another arrow. She would remember to thank him later. Just before turning back around, Blaine's gaze landed upon Liam. The boy stood, apparently bewildered, amidst the fray, stiff and lifeless. She thought her heart would melt with the fire of her fury, and knew that whatever had been done to her friend, it was at the hand of Breag.

With renewed energy, Blaine raced forward. The witch was still seated smugly beside the chief, grin evil and hands pressed together in delight. Blaine found herself growling, stooped to pick up a discarded belt knife without moving her glare from Breag's face. She did not flinch when, upon her slow prowl up to the soothsayer's seat, Breag's dark gaze met the hawk's golden one.

"What did you do to him?" Blaine asked, voice deep and shaking with anger. The witch cackled, looked down her sharp nose at the hawk.

"I took him back, that is all." Blaine brandished her knife.

"What do you mean?!" she demanded. "He wasn't yours to begin with!"

"Oh, but he was," the witch countered, onyx gaze sparking. "I conjured him! Half of his soul has always been mine, and now I have the other half."

For the second time that hour, Blaine's world flipped. The ritual Breag alluded to was ancient, forbidden magic—necromancy. The hawk felt for a moment that she was unable to breathe. When at last the shock cleared, it was replaced with a curtain of red so fierce, she felt she could burn the entire chamber simply with her glare. Breag tsked in mock sympathy. "Did you think you'd found a true friend? Poor little half soul."

"Liam was my friend!" Blaine nearly screamed, voice breaking.

"He was a plaything!" Breag said, at last standing from her seat. Her eyes flashed to the knife in Blaine's hand. "And what do you hope to do with that, little hawk? You cannot strike me—you shall be bent to our will!" Suddenly the witches voice became many, and Blaire stumbled back as though shoved by an invisible enemy. Her blade clattered uselessly from her hand.

"Blaine!" Propped on her elbows, Blaine craned her neck to see that Aragorn, Gimli and Legolas had beaten back most of the _Trodaire_. Aragorn, who had called to her, was kneeling on the floor, cradling something with a look of urgency. Blaine didn't have to look twice to know it was Liam.

"Hold onto him!" she called. At that moment, she felt something break. The pain was as sharp as the time she fractured her left forearm, but she knew this was no bone. Rather, it felt as though her heart had collapsed—simply crumbled in upon itself and sunken into her stomach, where it smoldered with flame that took her over completely.

Blaine rose to her feet with agonizing slowness as before her eyes, Breag's body morphed into something shadowed and grotesque. "You're a monster," she growled. Even the chief, who had been so happy to sit back and watch the chaos, glanced warily at his soothsayer, stood slowly and backed toward the door. Blaine let him go, set her feet in a firm stance; he was merely an instrument.

"We are no monster," the many voices of Breag cried at once. "We have transcended humanity—we are a God! A God! Gods!" Blaine curled her lip in disgust. Breag's gaze landed on her, seemed to scan her, before moving to where Aragorn clutched Liam. Her blackened smile was sickening. "Ah…he dies! Death! We have his soul—all of it! The whole thing! He will fade…we will take him! The foreign travelers…they are ours, as well! They will bring us the One—the Ring! Ring of Power!"

"No they will not." Blaine's voice was little more than a strained hiss, but Breag's gaze flashed back to her, widened in anger as her smile faded. For Blaine had planted her feet, arms outstretched, and her face reddened with effort. In fact, her entire being seemed to shake, and suddenly she had contorted with a sickening snap, as though her spine cracked in two. For a moment, she doubled over, and Breag took the opportunity to hunker down, focus her energy on the hawk.

"You think you can break the covenant?" she screeched. "Now, after so many centuries? We have held you—we will always keep you! You cannot break us!" But Blaine had already straightened to regard the mage with hard chips of glowing citrine. The temples at her nape had expanded to cover her neck and shoulders, lengthening into majestic wings at her arms, and a restless breeze seemed to stir about her as she stepped toward Breag.

"You have held me too long, witch," she whispered fiercely before snapping her wings forward in a down stroke that sent wind whistling through the chamber. Breag loosed a fearsome screech that threatened to burst Blaine's eardrums, cowered against her chair, and a forceful ripple seemed to arch from her. When it hit Blaine, she staggered back, face a mix of surprise and borderline ecstasy, for the wave had left her feeling oddly light, as though the great chain around her neck had been broken.

"NOOOO!" The witch's howl seemed to shake the very ground, and Blaine looked on his horror as she folded into herself, shadowed form contorting, crumpling, until she collapsed, an old hag, against her chair.

For a moment, Blaine could only stand, lost in the silence. Her mind had not caught up with the events that had transpired, and she raised her wingtips before her eyes in disbelief. _My demi form,_ she thought numbly. As her feathers stirred in some intangible breeze, she felt a smile of elation stretch across her face. "I'm free!" she shouted, turned to show her friends. "I'm fr—"

Blaine's excitement died in her throat at the sight of Liam where he lay cradled against Aragorn. Without so much as bothering to shift out of her demi form, Blaine rushed to his side in one great flap of her wings, leaned tearfully over him.

"He has not sustained any injuries," Aragorn informed her solemnly. "But his life force fades." Blaine nodded, unsurprised.

"I killed him," she whispered, and tears began to flow freely down her face. Aragorn cast her a confused frown. She took a shaken, watery breath. "He was linked to Breag—she took his soul!" She swallowed thickly. "And…in killing her, I have also killed Liam." Aragorn shook his head.

"You could not have known his fate," he said gently, but Blaine merely shook her head, traced a long, midnight feather down the side of her friend's face and closed her eyes against the tears.

"…Blaine?" At her touch, Liam's eyes fluttered open, cast around in confusion before settling at last on her face. Blaine's eyes flew open at the soft croak, and she leaned forward.

"I'm here," she assured her friend, laid her wing over the boy's cooling hand. Liam offered a brave smile.

"Don't cry," he coughed. "I hate it when you cry."

"I know," Blaine tried to force a watery smile. Liam tried to laugh at her attempt, but it quickly faded into a gurgling fit of coughs. Aragorn tried to prop him up, help him breathe better, and Blaine was dimly aware than Legolas and Gimli had gathered to respectfully observe the scene, but the hawk had tunnel vision.

"I'm sorry…I never told you…about Breag," Liam breathed when at last he stopped coughing. Blaine shook her head.

"How could you?" Blaine shushed him. "It was I who should have guessed." For a long moment, Liam merely smiled, and his breath grew so shallow that Blaine's heart nearly stopped in panic. Finally, he weakly traced one finger over the tip of her wing, and his eyes locked onto a single feather.

"Blaine," he said, and his voice shook, whether with weakness or sorrow Blaine didn't ponder. "I love you." And then his blue eyes drooped half closed, glazed over, and a last wisp of shaky breath left his lungs. Blaine stared at the body as Aragorn lowered it gently to the ground, tears falling numbly from her frozen face. She knew her new friends were watching her carefully, waiting to discover how to deal with the fallen Liam, but Blaine didn't care. Mechanically, she leaned down to plant a delicate kiss on Liam's brow, then stood stiffly, turned on her heel, and walked out of the chamber.

When the wind hit her face, Blaine could feel herself thaw from the chest out. Tears drying on her cheeks, she released a heavy sigh, tilted her head back and allowed her body to complete its shift. She took comfort in the prickle of feathers over her skin, the painful ache in her bones and the snap and crackle of tendons and cartilage falling into place. When she reopened her eyes, they were the dry, sharp eyes of a hawk, and with a shriek containing all her pain, her fury, her grief, Blaine took off into the gathering gloom of dusk.

**Definitely more tragic than I intended. Interestingly, Liam, himself, just sort of popped into being all on his own. I was originally very concerned about how Blaine would part with him-clearly he couldn't come with the Fellowship. But just when I had really started liking the addition of his character, he went and died on me. I hate ornery characters...and his loss has made Blaine very difficult to work with. I didn't expect her to be this stubborn...**

**Frustratedly, **

**Downs**


End file.
